


Attention

by lmeden



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, au bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-16
Updated: 2010-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/lmeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final confrontation, with their backs to a cliff. For the au_bingo prompt "Fantasy & Supernatural: Sword and Sorcery".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attention

“John?” I say, and the man steps in front of me, close-cropped hair darkened with patches of sweat, and raises his blood-darkened sword once more. I sigh and lower my hands, the tingle of power fading from them with a nearly inaudible crackle.

I relax back against the stone cliff behind me and close my eyes for an instant. A clash of metal awakens me with a jolt. How much time has passed? I am so tired.

John wields his sword well; it constantly moves in front of him – slow in the lulls of between clashes and quicker than a striking snake when the soldiers surrounding us come forward. I can see our opponents tiring; we have fought them or a long time. But John is gasping for breath, as tired as I am with my magic nearly drained from me, if not more. I gather what little power I have left. It swirls in my stomach, warming me. I smile at the sudden surge of energy and step forward, grasping John tightly on the shoulders. Hard enough that he will feel it under even his thick leather jerkin. I slip my power into him.

He jolts, and his head falls slightly back. “Sherlock,” he breathes.

I feel my heart beat once, hard, at the yearning in his voice, and my power surges through him, strengthening him and lending him life. He has never accepted this much of me within him before, and I can feel his exhaustion as if it was my own, and his bitter determination not to give in. It feels as if his body is pressed fully against mine, breathing deep and full, his eyes gazing into me. But, in truth, he is still feet away, and his back is turned to me. Only the magic we share gives me this sensation. I do not want to relinquish it, though I know that John is uncomfortable with this level of scrutiny.

Indeed, he has always been uncomfortable with my power. Perhaps if we survive this he will not shy away from me so.

I hear the shifting grind of dirt and look up, turning what I know to be a cold and unnerving stare upon the soldier who has stepped forward, sword raised to kill John in his moment of preoccupation. I have no power to spare for him, otherwise he would be dead now, or close, convulsing upon the ground. But, my gaze is enough to force him to hesitate, and I can sense his nervousness from behind the dark cloth wound round his head and concealing his face.

I feel John coming back to awareness, refreshed slightly. He is pulling away from me, drawing his soul back from mine. For an instant, I wish that I had let the soldier kill us both, so that I might have preserved the heady channel flowing between John and I. I know John senses my thought, and he pulls away completely and readies himself for the soldier’s next move. I feel barren and plucked raw, but stand ready, watching the soldier before us, and the second waiting a short distance away to back him up.

“Now, wait just a moment, boys.”

At the chill voice, emanating unseen from beyond the nearby trees, the soldiers stop and move back several paces. A short man steps forward, out of the scrub, dressed neatly in unassuming clothes. His gaze is nearly as unnerving as my own, and just as intelligent, I am loathe to admit. Though he has not given his name, I know the man. These are his soldiers, attempting to kill us.

“Moriarty.”

“Just so.” He smiles at me. “Sherlock Holmes, it is good to see you. I had almost feared that I would never meet a sorcerer of your caliber. Aside from myself, of course. And John Watson, too. Such a loyal pet. I wonder if he might not serve better than you, once I wind my power around his soul as you have yours.”

Damn Moriarty’s treacherous, lying words. I have used no spellwork to control John. It is very nearly the opposite, that the use of my power to divine and decode has driven John further from me. It is only luck, and something that I cannot name, that has kept him present as my companion. He has always been suspicious of my power, despite everything I have done for him – all the times that I have used it to save him. And now, he is pulling farther away from me, tensing at Moriarty’s words. I will not allow this small man to divide us.

“You will not touch him Moriarty. None of you will.” I step forward, feeling the points of swords quivering at attention, ready to kill me with a single stroke. Moriarty’s power is palpable to me, honed and ready. And fresh. If he presses this fight, he will kill me.

But not without killing himself. I dredge down deep, using Moriarty’s unblinking eyes to focus myself. I stare into them and reach both in and out, drawing forward all the power that I can grasp. I feel dizzy, but my soul swells with energy. Carefully, I gather this power, curling it tighter and tighter within until I let it snap out, lashing around Moriarty and his magic.

His eyes go wide, and his tongue slips out to lick his lips. He blinks. Any move he make now will tear my magic apart and kill me in the process, for in harnessing that last of my reserves I have used my very soul. He will rip me apart from the inside. But I have latched my claws into him. As my soul is torn apart, it will tear his magic to shreds. Moriarty will die as well.

John shifts behind me, but I know that he can do nothing to help or hinder. This is a sorcerer’s fight, and he cannot effect it’s outcome.

Moriarty’s magic flexes, testing my grip upon it, and him. I grin, mouth wide. And wind my coils tighter.

He stands very still, his full attention finally upon me.


End file.
